The Missing Years
by SuperVegetable
Summary: What happened during those three years before the androids, between Vegeta and Bulma? Everyone would like to know, so here's my take on the story.
1. Chapter 1

*I do not own DBZ in any way.

He stared at the sleeping figure, resting at the desk a foot away from his bed, with hazy bewilderment. He groaned softly, mostly from pain, yet with a hint of irritation. What was this earthling- this pushy, obnoxious, _woman_ earthling, of all people- doing, snoozing carelessly in _his_ chambers? What would posses a creature of her impatient, short-tempered character to actually care for his well-being? These thoughts passing through Vegeta's groggy mind enabled him to slowly understand how similar this woman was to himself, which made the Sayain Prince uncomfortable and angry. He quickly dismissed the drug-induced delusion from his weary train of thought. Ridiculous, the notion that SHE could have anything in common with an honorable, royal-blooded, destiny-driven prodigy such as he. With a slight moan, he raised himself upright in his bed, looking down in disgust at the plethora of various bandages that covered his sore body. All he wanted was to be out there training. While foolish Kakarot and the others seemed to be taking things easily, Vegeta knew that he would need every second he could spare to prepare himself for the battle that would rage between he and the androids.

"Confound these restraints," Vegeta grumbled quietly to himself as he began to shred the gauzes that covered his wounds. Once free, he stood, stretched, scoffed at the girl snoring on his desk, and slipped out the door to resume his training. Nothing and no one would impede his progress.

Bulma gradually began to feel conciousness returning to her. Yawning, she stretched her stiff joints out and sat upright to check on her injured guest. "Where did he run off to?" She questioned herself out loud. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up from her chair and wandered down the vast hallway before her. "Gosh, he sure isn't one for relaxation, is he?" Her voice echoed softly through her parents' quiet, empty house. "I'm sure he's not in the house anywhere, otherwise I'd hear him yelling for something he could probably get himself," she added jokingly.

As she walked, Bulma pondered the future events the mysterious time-traveller had warned them about only days before. A small lump of fear attempted to form in her throat, but she shook the idea away. She knew Goku wouldn't let those androids destroy Earth. He always came to its rescue, even when it seemed impossible. He was so different from their new Sayain guest, who's only concern seemed to be obtaining the powers of a Super Sayain and besting everyone who stepped in his path.

"Ah," she thought, "I bet that's where I'll find him." She followed her realization, and eventually her ears, outside to the intricate gravity machine her father had built, and recently re-built from Vegeta's latest destructive session. Mighty, pugnacious sounds emitted from within the delicate creation, and for a moment Bulma prayed he wouldn't destroy their machine a second time. A sudden indignant feeling arose at the thought, causing her to march right up to the entrance and rap loudly against the door. The violent sounds ceased in an instant and were quickly followed by deliberate, heavy, metallic footsteps and a sudden gush of wind as the door was swung open to reveal the annoyed, furrowed brow of the distempered Sayain, wearing his usual training suit and look of distaste.

"What do you want, woman?" Vegeta barked impatiently at his unexpected and unwelcomed guest.

Exasperated at his nasty tone, Bulma planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head at the brute. "What do you think you're doing, coming out here to train before you've even healed from your last little incident? My father _just_ finished cleaning up after your mess, and I _don't_ want to see you make another one!"

Vegeta's countenance changed from portraying irritation to hot anger. How _dare_ this woman speak to him this way? Releasing his arms from the tight crossed position on his chest, he clenched his fists as he stepped towards the tiny figure in front of him, not moving his eyes from hers. Bulma's feet remained firmly in their spot, but as the Sayain drew closer, she leaned back and away from his towering figure, the intimidation growing with each step he took. In a matter of seconds his face was mere inches away from hers, his deep, dark eyes penetrating hers with a ferocity she had yet to experience. While he wasn't much taller than her, only a few inches, he seemed gargatuan as the shadow of his broad shoulders engulfed her completely, the spikey silhouette of his hair cascading down her face.

"I should have blasted you into space the first time I saw you and your pathetic friends on Namek," he hissed through his teeth, "and the only reason I'm not going to do it now is because you're not worth my time. I must train as often as I get the chance, unless you want to see your precious world suffer to the death. So if I were you, I'd stop complaining and be ready to fix this machine EVERY TIME IT FAILS ME!!!"

The loud, demanding last part of Vegeta's lecture caused Bulma to stumble backward, dumbfounded, tripping over the edge of the ramp leading into the gravity machine. With a quick yelp, she felt her feet leave the ground beneath her and shut her eyes tight, awaiting the moment when she would inevitabley smack the ground and feel the searing pain. Instead, she felt a strong tug on the front of her shirt, and the moment did not come. She slowly opened one eye after the other to behold Vegeta's muscled arm outstretched, clenching her collar.

"You clumsy Earth woman, you're going to get yourself killed one day."

Bulma's face turned bright red with embarrasment as she jumped away from his grasp. "Hey, you shouldn't grab a lady's shirt like that, that was so rude!!!"

Vegeta scoffed and abruptly turned to proceed into the gravity machine once more. "By the way, I'm hungry. Make me some lunch."

Bulma screamed with rage as she turned and stomped back toward her house. "Screw you! You can just STARVE!"

The last word of the woman's screech reached Vegeta's ears just as he slammed the door behind him. "What an irritating creature," he mumbled as he flicked the on switch to continue his training. As he warmed up, he found himself thinking how blue those big, round eyes were, and against his will, his mind recalled the moment she called him "cute" as she invited him to her home.

He shook his head tiredly. "Ridiculousness." Outside the chamber, the muffled sounds of his vigorous training recommenced.


	2. Chapter 2

*I do not own DBZ in any way.

"Hey, dad, I'm heading to the kitchen for a drink. Want anything?" Bulma slid her padded electrical gloves off and pushed the front of her hair back up underneath her ball cap. She had changed her hairstyle again, a trait she was known for among her family and friends. She was simply undecided on which style conveyed her beauty in the best way, so she alterated them frequently just to keep it interesting.

"No, thank you, dear. I believe I'll be just fine without, for the moment." The scientest was bent over one of his various inventions, tinkering away without much acknowledgement of the world around him. Bulma smiled at her father before sliding off the stool she had been perched on and strolling toward the house.

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, Bulma nearly went into cardiac arrest at the sight of Vegeta, sitting stiffly at the table with his arms crossed, staring blankly at her, seemingly awaiting her arrival. With a groan, Bulma pushed her hat further up her forehead and bent down to take a look in the refridgerator, feeling his cold gaze the entire way. "Can I help you with something?" Sarcasm dripped off her voice as she rummmaged through the shelves, hoping with every fiber of her being that he would understand her tone as unforthcoming, decide she "wasn't worth his time" again, and just exit the way he came. Following their altercation at the gravity machine a month earlier, she had done her best to avoid him at all costs. Her mother seemed to adore him, waiting on him hand and foot, while Bulma considered him a thorn in her side. She found him arrogant and oblivious to the inferior way he treated other people. She had been very busy lately, working on some tougher armor for the Z Fighters, fine-tuning the functions of the gravity machine, and testing out various inventions her father passed along her way. But it seemed that every few days Bulma's father would come into the lab with yet another set of broken bots, fresh from Vegeta's pounding. Bulma felt that it was beginning to take over the majority of their working hours, and it was a tedious job, continuously repairing equipment that had been blown to bits. She often regretted inviting that crazy Sayain to stay.

"It's late today," came his gruff reply.

Bulma met his eyes with a vacant stare. "What?"

Vegeta growled. "The food, woman. My food is late today, where is it? I must resume my training, but it can't be done on an empty stomach!"

Bulma closed her eyes and exhaled heavily out of her nose. It had reoccurred to her that her mother had been the one preparing his meals lately, and she had been in bed all day, feeling very under the weather. "My mother is not your personal slave, you jerk, and for your information, she's sick right now! Make it yourself!"

Vegeta's cheeks grew a soft shade of pink as he quickly looked down to avoid Bulma's gaze. "A Sayain Prince doesn't... cook..." he muttered, sounding somewhat discomposed.

"What?" Bulma chortled, "you mean to tell me you've _never_ cooked _anything_?"

Vegeta scoffed. "When you're the son of a great warrior race, you don't have time for baking cookies. I have always had far more important matters to attend to."

"Well, buddy, down here on Earth, we don't all have personal chefs; if you're hungry, you get up and make yourself something!" Bulma nodded her head once sharply, hands on her hips, satisfied with her retort. She grabbed her soda can and turned around to march back out to the lab.

"But..."

She stopped in her tracks, turning an ear to the deep, subdued voice.

Vegeta quickly turned away from her, his face now a dazzling red. "I... don't know how." The sheer volume of Bulma's laugh was enough to cause the Prince to lose his temper. "Oh, what's the big deal, woman? I've never laughed at you for being a pathetic weakling!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, you overly-tense thing! I'm not making fun of you, Vegeta! I've just never heard of somebody who couldn't cook at least a little. You have to admit, it's kinda funny. You're a grown man! I mean, even Goku can-"

"Alright, I get it!!" With his entire body facing away from her and his fists curled at his sides, Vegeta was beyond irritated.

Sensing that she possibly went too far, Bulma ceased her giggling. With a much gentler voice, she laid a cautious hand on Vegeta's shoulder and said, "Hey, I could... teach you some things, if you want. It's not too hard, and you could eat your favorite foods whenever you want!"

Vegeta grunted in frustration. Was this puny Earth-woman claiming she could _help_ the Prince of All Sayains? He wouldn't allow himself to stoop that low. However, with the knowledge she possesed, he wouldn't have to rely on her blathering mother day-to-day. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was needing assistance from others. With an exasperated sigh, he wrenched himself from her grasp and turned to face her.

"Fine," he conceded. "Teach me what you know." As his eyes met hers, he found himself staring further into them, as if he were attempting to look into her soul. Then he noticed how different she looked, her hair pushed up into her ball cap, wearing her grease-covered work suit. "Why is your hair different?" Vegeta was almost as surprised as Bulma at his inquiry.

"Because I thought my other style was getting kind of old, and I figured maybe this one would be prettier. Why on Earth would you care?" Bulma's embarrassment was apparent on her face.

Vegeta's attention was drawn to the blue, gentle, flowing curls draping down her back. They were so shiny, so thick, and so free. Just like a Sayain's locks. But such an intruiging color. Instantaneously he understood what he was doing and snapped back to attention. "I-uh... you Earth women have ridiculous beauty rituals. It's the reason none of you are able to become stronger, as Sayain women do."

"Well, it's not _my_ problem if Sayain women don't care about their looks; for Earth women, it's the most important!" Bulma finished with a flip of her hair as she returned to the refridgerator to retrieve some cooking ingredients. "Now, let's get started, stud!"

Vegeta huffed at her last word as he turned his face to conceal the pink tint in his cheeks. It frustrated him that he was noticing things so silly as an Earth-woman's hair. He knew he had to focus and keep his mind off of trifling things if he ever desired to prove his ultimate strength against the androids. And at that moment, it meant aqcuiring the skills necessary to quench his own hunger, so maybe he could avoid running into this horribly distracting human being.

"Very well."


	3. Chapter 3

*I do not own DBZ in any way.

Vegeta sat at the Brief's empty breakfast table unhurriedly eating his meal. Normally a Sayain would ravenously devour his food in order to save time, or in some circumstances, merely out of immense hunger. However, this time, his reasoning was even beyond his high intelligence. He felt strange, and to his vexation he could not identify the problem. He didn't feel as steely-focused as he always had, and he found it difficult to fall asleep most days. He would simply lie awake in the late hours of the night, taxing himself to cease his mind's wandering. He just knew that somehow he had contracted a form of disease or curse from that Earth-woman. In all of his years he had never experienced anything like this. Not even when he left planet Vegeta and became Frieza's slave. He had traveled to many galaxies and inumerable planets, and even in all of the worlds he eventually destroyed, the phenomenon was beyond his palate of emotions. He knew of the concept of marriage, and all that it entailed; his people held similar ceremonies to unite young couples. And while a Sayain's marriage was arranged (and primarily based solely on maintaining a name, wealth, or line of power), Vegeta understood that there were emotions involved in some cases. Kakarot was proof of that. Yet, Vegeta himself never knew these sentiments. They were foreign and unsettling to him. The pride within his soul commanded nothing less than total devotion to his cause of becoming the strongest in the universe, and his whole life from the moment he was born was based on that deep-rooted desire. Because of it, he grew up with little more family than his strict, stoic father. The word "friend" was absent from his vocabulary for years, and even now he was still trying to comprehend it fully. The only emotion he had ever felt other than pride was anger; it was how he was wired. Annoying as he was, Kakarot had a reason to feel all of the complex things that he did; he had never known the cold, hard upbringing that Vegeta had. The Sayain Prince knew that. However, the conundrum that troubled him so wasn't the _origin_ of a Sayain personality, but it's fixed nature. Kakarot had always been the same clown from day one; steady as the mountains that rose above the Earth he cherished so. Vegeta _had_ always been constant, until these Earthlings stepped into his static life. While he could never view Kakarot's friends as he did, the prince began to understand the caring nature of his rival. Nevertheless, it still did not explain the terrifying effect this puny woman had on him. He did not want any part of this unecessary Earth concept, he told himself incessantly. But despite how often he repeated it, there was always the tiniest sliver of him that wanted to know a passion he was never allotted.

"Ah, hello, Vegeta," Dr. Brief's voice shattered the Sayain's heavy thoughts.

"Uh... hello," Vegeta muttered quietly, lamenting the loss of his deep thought process.

"How's the training going? Are my bots working out for you this time?"

"The bots are sufficient. As for my training, it would go much more smoothly if your pestering daughter would leave me be."

"Bulma? Why, I thought she was being rather helpful. Is there something wrong, my boy?"

Vegeta huffed. "Of course there is, she just won't stay out of my he- training... room." Vegeta's high-set cheeks showed not only his frustration, but humiliation.

The old man grinned knowingly. "I think I understand now, Vegeta." He grew concerned as the Prince began to draw away from him, noticeably uncomfortable. "Now, now, there's no reason to be embarrassed; Bulma's grown into quite a remarkable woman." He chuckled thoughtfully. "And with her fiery personality, perhaps she could use a man like you."

"That's ridiculous, old man, I'm concerned with only one thing- saving your Earth from those pesky androids! I won't be distracted by anything, especially something as trivial as that!" His face was hot with anger.

The scientest simply chuckled once more as he stood to leave the room. "Ah, relax, Vegeta. I think that one day you'll find far more than you thought you would on this Earth. It's a wide world, with billions of new faces, and Bulma's is a one-of-a-kind. Just think about it, lad." With that, Bulma's father stooped to pick up his kitten, laid him back on his shoulder with a loving pat, and strolled out of the room.

Vegeta remained standing near the table, focusing his eyes on the floor beneath him. But his mind wandered elsewhere. Within that moment, with Dr. Brief's last words, he felt the tiniest hint of a surge in his heart, and the unstable emotions within him started to solidify. He leaned his weight in his arms on the edge of the table, steadying his exhausted body. Nothing made sense in his world anymore; it hadn't since his arrival on Earth. His old Sayain life was fading before his eyes. And it wasn't until that talk that he realized, mouth agape, that he didn't miss it. Everything he had done, seen, and felt since he landed on Earth flashed through his mind. His battles, his encounters, the faces of all those he had at first sought to destroy but now would be fighting beside... The mercy Kakarot had shown him, and still showed him every day. The warmth these people shared with each other that was doing its best to spread to him. That woman. Bulma. The beautiful face of... Bulma. He shook his head in disbelief. His heart thumped just a little harder at that name. "I don't know what's happening to me," Vegeta said aloud, "but maybe... its not such a bad thing." As he walked out of the house, headed towards the gravity machine, Vegeta could have sworn that he felt himself... smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

*I do not own DBZ in any way.

It was a sunny, calm afternoon at the Brief's house. Mrs. Brief was tidying up the house, being the busy bee she was. Bulma, stretched out on the sofa with her favorite snack, was casually perusing the pages of one of her numerous fashion magazines. She had decided to take a break from work and relish in a lazy day. With Vegeta's rigorous and frequent training, she and her father had had their work cut out for them for weeks on end, repairing the gravity machine, tweaking bots, and conjuring up newer ones when the previous models couldn't take anymore. Vegeta had been very demanding as well as persistent, which kept them on their toes. It seemed that he had thrown himself deeper into his training lately, hardly ever coming into the house or speaking to them. He often seemed in a trance as well, which was fairly new. Even though he held onto his stoic and short personality, Bulma began to notice some changes in his interactions with them. He didn't yell as often, there seemed to be less complaining about insignificant things, and more genuine, constructive criticism when something wasn't up to his standards. Only days before, she encountered the shock of her life when she overheard him thank her father for something. It was easier slaving away for him when he was more sensitive to their humanity. But that day, however, the two scientests decided that some well-deserved relaxation was in order. No inventing, constructing, or even trying to comprehend anything as strange as a nice Vegeta.

The front door slowly opened, and in her peripherals, Bulms caught a glimpse of a tall, spikey-haired profile in the doorway.

"Oh, hello, Vegeta, dear!" Bulma's mother cooed.

Bulma did not dare look up. She wanted to draw as little attention to her presence as possible. There was no way he would drag her away from her mini-vacation.

Vegeta glanced lucidly at her mother in a silent response, then turned his attention to the girl hiding behind her magazine on the couch.

"Bulma." His deep, powerful voice sounded oddly calm and quiet.

Bulma's eyes shot upward and towards the Sayain in shock. Had he just used her actual name? She didn't even know he knew what it was. "Umm... yea?"

"I... the gravity machine needs repairs. I... request your mechanical skills to fix it."

"Well..." Bulma gazed into his charcoal eyes. His brows weren't as furrowed as they normally appeared. "I can do it tomorrow. Dad and I are taking a much needed break today. We're exhausted!" She finished confidently, while secretly swallowing the lump in her throat, bracing herself for the inevitable lecture she would recieve.

Vegeta paused for a moment, to his own annoyance, taking in her sparkling eyes once more before turning to walk out the door. "Tomorrow. Enjoy your day off."

Bulma watched in awe as he strolled back outside. He didn't scream. He didn't order her around or cause a big scene. He didn't even try to pursuade her. He simply let her have what she wanted. And if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he sounded... sincere.

"What... was _that_ all about?" She wondered aloud, completely flabbergasted.

"My, that Vegeta just gets sweeter every day, doesn't he?"

Bulma jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. She had almost forgotten she was there. "Um, sure, mom, whatever you say." She rolled her eyes with a smirk as she returned to her magazine. She couldn't fathom what her mother saw in that maniac. She was constantly gabbing on about what a gentleman he was, how sweet he was, how handsome. Sure, he had changed a little since he began living with the Briefs, but he was still the same alien who threatened to destroy Goku and the entire Earth. How great could he be?

"And boy, does he have eyes for you!" She squealed with delight. Too much delight, in Bulma's opinion.

"What the heck, mom!?" Bulma shrilled. "What's going on in your head? What would I want to do with that ape? Gross!"

"I sure could think of a few things," Mrs. Brief giggled.

"MOM!!"

"Oh, come on, Bulma, he's a real looker! What, with that jet-black hair and those deep eyes, and that dazzling smile! Not to mention those rippling muscles!" She had Bulma's face a vibrant shade of red. "Besides, he's so strong and reliable. And if he's friends with Goku, he must be a nice guy. I'm telling you, Bulma, I wouldn't let a guy like that get away!"

Bulma groaned exasperatedly as she placed her face in her hands. "Well I promise he's not- wait." She looked back up at her mother. "What did you mean, he has eyes for me? That man doesn't care about anything but training!"

"I'm an experienced woman; I know when a man is smitten with you! You should see the way he looks at you, darling! There's a twinkle in those eyes, I'm telling you!"

Bulma found herself glancing toward the window. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, _positive,_ dear. I'd know that look anywhere!"

"Ha, there's no way!" Bulma laughed defiantly. "How could a person like that ever feel infatuation?"

"Well, why don't you go ask him yourself?"

"Uh, noooo thank you!" Bulma stated firmly. "I'm not getting fried to a crisp today! Besides, why would I care? I have much better things to worry about!" She gathered up her things and marched toward her room. She didn't know why, but for some reason, her interaction with Vegeta, combined with the conversation with her mother, made her feel very uncomfortable. Could that big emotionless lug actually feel... love? Bulma wondered as she strode down the hall to her room. That could explain why he was acting so strange, and with any other guy, she would be sure of it. But Vegeta? She just couldn't see such a focused warrior trifling himself with silly things like a relationship or feelings. She passed through her doorway and paused by her vanity, looking into the mirror to see a slight pink in her cheeks.

"Ugh!" She screamed in frustration. "This is ridiculous!" She layed down on her bed, yawning. "He's just a creepy alien who wants to beat Goku and show off his muscles!" She closed her eyes. "Although, they are pretty nice." She flicked her eyes open again, not believing the words that just escaped her mouth. She groaned as she closed them again. "I need a nap. Maybe then I'll be in my right mind again."


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own DBZ in any way.

Bulma slowly opened her eyes to see the ceiling fan circling lazily above her. Light no longer drifted through her curtained windows, and the house was silent. "Oh man," she yawned, "How long have I been out? I must have been even more tired than I thought."

"Sleep well?" A smooth, deep voice emitted from the darkness.

"Hey!" Bulma yelped. "What on Earth are you doing here!? I told you I'd fix it tomorrow! Gosh, you sure are persistent."

Vegeta stepped from the shadows and moved to the edge of her bed. "Oh, that's not what I'm here for. And yes, I know what I want."

"Huh?" Bulma, confused and flustered, felt her face grow warm as something fluttered in her stomach. Vegeta smirked slightly as he drew closer to her. She noticed that he was shirtless, wearing only sweat pants. A tan, well-built arm stretched out as a callused hand brushed her cheek so gingerly she could barely feel it. At the same time, every part of her body was made aware of its brief visitor. A strong tingle shot up her spine, her heart thumping so violently she was sure his Sayain ears could hear it.

"Nervous, aren't we? That's exciting." His quiet, steady voice rolled like distant thunder, electrifying every part of her being and alerting her to the coming rain.

"Wha... w-what are you doing, Vegeta?" Bulma managed to squeak, in utter disbelief of what was taking place.

"Shh...," Vegeta whispered seductively, raising his other hand to match the one resting on her soft cheek. "Don't overthink anything. Just let go. The Prince is here, now." He slid closer to her, pulling her towards him. Bulma hadn't even noticed that he had climbed up onto the bed with her. Being so close to him, she noticed every built part of him, just begging to be touched. With the gentlest of hands, Vegeta guided her face to him and tenderly pressed her trembling lips into his.

The world faded. A strong, flowing warmth spread over her body like a tidal wave. His lips were lush, petal-soft, and ever-so-satisfying. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, leaning into his passionate kiss. She felt Vegeta's weight shift on her bed as he spontaneously swooped underneath her, lifting her up onto his lap with his powerful muscles. One rough hand slid down her back, promptly pursued by the other. The pounding of Bulma's heart aligned with Vegeta's as his animalistic desires swept over him and he jerked her body into his, so close that the moonlight streaming through the window could no longer penetrate the space between them. The heat grew steadily as their bodies sat pressed against one another, fitting together like puzzle pieces. Vegeta's lips moved downward, along her neck and through her breasts. Bulma's fingertips tingled as they ran, first through his thick, black hair and then across his tight, warm back muscles. Hands moved to remove the restraints holding each other back from their bodies. They paused for a moment as Vegeta pierced Bulma's soul with his dark, shining eyes.

"Wait." Bulma placed a hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you sure about this? I mean... what brought this on? Its not like you."

Vegeta gently laid Bulma back onto her pillow as he hovered over her. "More sure than anything that has happened to me since I landed on this wretched planet. Now come here, woman."

Bulma giggled as she pulled him in for another kiss.

"Bulma."

"Mm... yes?"

"Bulma."

"Yes, Vegeta?"

"BULMA!"

"Ah, what!?" Bulma leapt upright in bed, startled and dazed. She glanced towards the door. The Sayain prince stood in the doorway, clad in his training clothes, covered in soot and scratches, fists clenched at his sides.

"Vegeta?" Bulma mumbled, yawning from her nights sleep. Her heart dropped ever so slightly as she understood the dream nature of her encounter with him, but she pushed it aside for the moment.

"You promised me you would fix that blasted machine today. I have tried to be patient with you but my composure has its limits. I shall be waiting near the door. You might want to bring some rubber gloves; there's snapped wires all over the damned place." As suddenly as he was there, he was gone once more.

Bulma sighed heavily as she stretched her limbs out and slid out of bed to get dressed and gather her tools. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was far past lunch time, meaning Vegeta really had been patient with her. He normally arose with the sun. A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered her savory dream. As nice as it was, she wasn't sure she wanted her brain to see him that way. After choosing an outift and pulling her hair back to keep it out of the way, Bulma rolled her sleeves up, snatched up her toolbox, and headed for the door. On the way out, she caught a glimpse of her rubber gloves laying on her vanity bench and remembered what Vegeta had said. She pondered his advice for a moment, wondering if it might hold any value.

"Eh, nah, I should be fine. It's usually not that bad." She picked up her hat off of her dresser and strolled out the house towards the gravity machine.

Upon arrvial, Bulma could tell this was a bad break. Smoke rose from the rear of the machine as Vegeta stood near the open door, arms crossed and eyebrows turned down in frustration. Bulma felt a slight jolt in her heart seeing him standing there, in nothing but his workout shorts and tennis shoes. She wasn't sure if she would ever see him the same way after that dream. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook off her hesitation and marched up to him. "Alright, bud, what happened here?" She cocked her head and placed her free hand on her hip.

Vegeta met her gaze and quickly looked away. He seemed embarrassed about something. "I believe something went wrong with the circuit board of this hunk of junk."

"Hey, my dad worked really hard on this 'hunk of junk' and it happens to be top-of-the-line. What exactly did you do?"She inquired, raising an eyebrow to him.

"I was simply trying to harden my training, but apparently this thing's limits are nowhere near mine. It just exploded after I set it to its highest setting."

"Huh. That's weird. Let me call my dad and ask him what's up." She produced her cellphone from her pocket and dialed her father's number.

"Hello?" Dr. Brief answered casually.

"Hey dad. I'm here fixing the gravity machine for Vegeta and he says that the circuit board exploded on the highest setting. Any advice?"

"Oh, yes," the scientest replied, "I haven't worked out all the kinks of those few upper settings. They use a lot more power and so they get finicky sometimes. If Vegeta has been frequently using those, it might have been too much for the circuits to handle. Just sit tight and I'll be over to help shortly."

"Alright dad, thanks!" Bulma clicked her phone closed and turned her attention to a smirking Vegeta. "And just what are you giving me that look for?"

"I told you it was a hunk of junk. You take far too much pride in your works."

"Hey! Bulma stated, irritated. "You're one to talk, Mr. Big Muscles, you're one of the most prideful men I've ever met!"

Vegeta's face grew red as he turned slightly away from her. He seemed uncomfortable again. Bulma began wondering what exactly he came face-to-face with in her room when he came to wake her up. "That's different," he muttered. "At least there's solid proof of my greatness."

Bulma rolled her eyes as she reached with one of her tools towards the main control panel. "Whatever, stud, don't worry, we'll have this useless machine running again before you can say-"

"Bulma, where are your rubber gl-"

A bright flash illuminated the shining metal interior around her. She heard a loud pop as she felt the cold hard ground beneath her back. The ringing in her ears blocked all sound from her mind, but she was mildly aware of a tall silhouette above her, leaning in towards her. She felt a pair of strong arms slide underneath her neck and legs, then the sensation of floating. The last thing she remembered before she closed her eyes was the very concerned countenance of a certain Sayain looking down on her limp body, shouting what appeared to be her name. Then her world went black.


	6. Chapter 6

*I do not own DBZ in any way.

The blinding flash was brief, but painful to the eyes. Vegeta lowered his arm from the shielded position over his face to see Bulma, lying limp and unconcious on the cold, metal floor. Sparks still danced on the live wires dangling from the control panel that had just propelled the scientest halfway across the room. Vegeta raised a hand in anger and disposed of the motherboard with a quick energy blast. His attention then moved to the woman on the floor.

"Bulma."

She layed unresponsive.

"Bulma?" Vegeta had a slight urgence to his voice. He floated down to the ground and ran towards her. His swift instincs had launched him in the air milliseconds before the wires touched Bulma's fingertips, otherwise he would have been electrocuted alongside her. He peered down over her face. Her eyes were still slightly open, her breathing almost non-existent. "Bulma!" Vegeta's voice was loud and desperate. Bulma slowly opened her mouth to respond, but then gently shut her eyes. He gingerly placed an ear on her chest and listened intently. Faint heartbeat, no breathing. His Sayain blood ran cold. Fortunately, CPR was not a technique limited to the knowledge of earthlings. Vegeta pumped on Bulma's chest and did his best to breathe life back into her lifeless body. After a hellacious minute or two, she gasped and drew in a deep, staggering breath. Vegeta felt his muscles de-clench as he sighed greatfully and sank down onto his hands and knees. His moment of relief was cut short as Bulma instantaneously began wheezing.

"V-ve... Ve... ge..."

The prince lept forward, facing her as he reached down and cupped her head in his hands, gently lifting it up towards him. "Bulma, whats wrong?" He was surprising himself with the level of concern he was displaying.

"Can't... breathe..." She managed to relay, reaching up and subconciously grasping for something to pull herself up on. Her hands found Vegeta's arms. Nails dug into his skin as Bulma winced at the effort and fell back to the ground again. Panicked, Vegeta rose hurriedly with her in his arms and dashed out of the gravity machine. He flew rapidly back to the Brief's house, and straight through the door. Mr. and Mrs. Brief were having tea on the couch.

"Quick, she needs help!" Vegeta yelled, not slowing his pace until he was face-to-face with Dr. Brief.

"Oh my goodness, what happened?!?" Bulma's mother screamed, rushing to her daughters side in hysteria.

"Electric shock," Vegeta wasted no time. "She needs medical attention, now. She's having trouble breathing."

"Son, you fly her to the hospital; you'll get there much faster than we can. We'll be right behind you."

Vegega did as he was told. Pulling Bulma in closer to him, he took off hastily toward the closest hospital, her parents in pursuit. Flying as fast as his Ki could carry him, it was all he could do to keep from exploding to let his mind race frantically. His head was filled with far too many emotions for his taste: fear, concern, guilt, and- no. He would not allow himself to focus on that... that word. Not right now. While his main goal was still to best Kakarot in a final epic dual, he knew that he had become a protector, of some sorts, for this puny planet he now called his home, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, hardly even himself. He had to take care of its weak inhabitants, he told himself. He couldn't do that if his head was in the clouds.

"Perhaps its my fault she got fried," he wondered aloud, "I should have sensed her idiocy the moment she stepped into the room... No." He shook his head," " _She_ shouldn't have been so careless in the first place. Why should I care? I mean, I should, but... I don't want to. It isn't befitting a Prince." He sighed heavily. "But I do." He looked down on her beautiful face. "No thanks to you, you... clumsy Earth-woman..." Vegeta's voice trailed and his countenance softened slightly as he remembered the first argument they had months before. Now he felt a new feeling. It was similar to shame, which he had to face after his defeat agaisnt Kakarot. Yet, it was a sensation he had never known. It was... regret. He was sure of it. An odd feeling, for a ferocious, stoic Sayain prince. He regretted being so horrid to her. Which was the first time he had ever questioned his treatment of others. He growled as he shook the idea from his mind. He could meditate on these mental impairments later. He had his hero duties to fullfil.

The hospital was fairly empty and quiet. Vegeta sat, still donned in his training clothes, in an undisturbed corner facing the hallway he saw the nurses wheel Bulma down. One white boot nervously tapped the tile beneath it as the Sayain rested his chin on a fist, eyes fixed before him. His nerves gradually steadying, he let his mind wander to keep himself occupied. He mulled over his life since he began his journey years ago, from his tiny little Sayain pod, to learning from his father what it meant to be a proud ruler, to losing him. He reminisced about his travels with Nappa, destroying worlds for the infamous Frieza. Then he began pondering his new life on Earth, about his relationship with Kakarot and his moronic friends. He thought about Bulma. Her pretty hair, her beautiful smile. He let his mind go too far. Suddenly he winced as a lump in his throat formed, remembering what he encountered earlier in the day, when he went searching for her and found her asleep. He rubbed his tired temples with calloused fingertips. He did not need _that_ intruding his thoughts at the moment.

"Mister Vegeta, Miss Bulma's awake, if you'd like to see her now."

Vegeta jumped. He hadn't even percieved the nurse approaching him. He thought for a moment. "No, that's fine. I'll just wait here for her-"

"Oh Vegeta!!" Bulma's mother cooed. The Briefs emerged from around the corner, followed promptly by a doctor.

"Well, how is she?" Vegeta could not help himself. The need to know she was okay consumed him.

"Well, she's very drained, and a little sore from the landing," the doctor explained, "but her breathing is back on track and she should be fine. Its amazing she didn't go into respiratory paralysis, or worse yet, ventricular fibrillation. There was a lot of volts in that machine, so I'm told. She's one tough girl. She needs rest and monitoring, but she should be ready to go home some time tomorrow." With a cordial smile, the doctor flipped the pages back down on his clipboard and strolled off towards another patients room.

Vegeta turned to leave. "I'll be at the house," he gruffily informed the couple.

"Wait, Vegeta, Bulma said she'd like to see you before you go. Why don't you give her a visit?" The old man's smile was warm.

The lump in Vegeta's throat grew heavier. He paused tensely for a moment, then conceded to their pleading faces. "Oh, alright, I'll humor you humans and your strange desire for pleasantries." He moved around Bulma's parents and made his way reluctantly to her room. He hesitated for a brief instant, decided that Sayains did not let fear stop them, and marched inside.

A myriad of uncomfortable emotions flooded his being when he saw the sleeping woman bundled up in white hospital blankets on the bed. He could feel his heart working much faster, and- was his blood pressure rising? This creature infuriated and excited him at the same time. He could not even begin to sort out the congested tracks of his train of thought. Every Sayain felt desire. Just like other races, it was a necessity for life. But for many Sayains, thats were the line was drawn- a raw and instinctual urge. Vegeta amitted to himself sheepishly that he had felt this for Bulma for some time. The thing that still frustrated him so was not his need for a "mate," per se, but the plethora of comlex, deep feelings that accompanied it. Ever since that short talk with Dr. Brief, he struggled with these emotions. It was a strange and tiring mental battle. As if he didn't have his hands full with the physical. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, contemplating his next move. He had almost decided to turn around, leave, and say he didn't want to disturb her, when he heard a slight yawn and saw her slowly open a set of tired eyes.

"Vegeta... hey." She seemed so relaxed. Odd for someone who had tasted the equivalent of a lightning bolt in recent hours.

"Bulma." Vegeta wanted this to end quickly. He was sorely out of his element.

"I just wanted to say... thank you, you know, for helping me. I might not still be alive, if it weren't for you."

Vegeta's cheeks grew pink, remembering how he saved her. Her lips were so soft, and he had only begun to think about that now. "You're... welcome." The words felt odd escaping his mouth. They were ones a Sayain would normally never utter.

"Everything okay, Vegeta? You've seemed really bothered by something today."

"Its nothing." Vegeta's reply was curt and noticeably embarrassed.

"You sure? I hate to see you so stressed. You can tell me...," she giggled. "You saved my life, after all. I can keep a secret for you."

Vegeta slowly looked into her eyes. Pressure welled up inside him. How could he tell the only woman who ever made him feel weak that he heard her sensually murmuring his name over and over in her sleep? That he watched wide-eyed as she slid her own hands up and down her body as if he were on top of it? Or worse yet, that he was thouroughly invested in observing this spectacle? Why did she have to leave her door wide open when she napped? Part of his mind wanted to forget it, yet most of it clung to the memory like the tight tank top on her small frame. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His heart was thumping so violently he could feel it in his throat. His face felt fire-hot. He felt himself moving towards her. He couldn't stop. He saw two gloved hands caressing her pale cheeks. Sweat formed on his forehead. What was he doing? Why couldn't he stop this madness? Before he could think another thoguht, he found himself melting, his lips pressed into hers with such an emerging passion it felt unreal. He was sure his heart would leap out of his chest. He was so hot he wanted to rip the clothes from his body. And then hers. And then do things to her that she probably couldn't have fathomed in that feverish dream of hers. And then hold her close for the night- no- for the rest of his life. He loved her. He... loved. Her. Vegeta could not evade his feelings any longer. For the first time in his life, he loved somebody that wasn't himself. He felt a soft, gentle hand on his own tanned cheek. From that point of contact, a wave of warmth, accompanied by a tingling sensation, spread over his body. She gave in and pushed her lips back into his. He had fought many battles, won many duals, and been on top of the world. Yet in this moment, he had never felt more alive. He didn't know how long they sat like that. It felt like decades passed them. He opened his eyes and pulled his mind back into his head. The two parted, gaping at each other in awe and disbelief.

"Vegeta..." his name rolling off her lush lips was so soft and hedonistic. She still had a hand resting on his cheek, paralyzed. Her eyes were round and sparkling with wonder. "Where... where did _that_ come from?"

"I... I-uh..." Vegeta could not speak. He felt dizzy. And nauseous. "It was... I didn't mean... I have to go." With an abrupt leap, he turned and rushed out the door. During his departure, he could faintly hear the distressed voice of a weakened Bulma, the woman he loved, crying, "Vegeta, come back..."

When the Briefs arrived home the next day, Bulma's heart sank into her stomach at the sight of an empty space where the gravity machine had once stood. She didn't even know how he got it started. She had almost forgotten that it doubled as a spaceship. She had thought for so long it would never leave again. Yet now it was gone. And so was he.

"Vegeta..." she felt a tear fall down her cheek. But for once, he would not hear her calling his name.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own DBZ in any way.

Careening through space at an unreasonable speed, Vegeta's mind and heart were racing. What had he just done? Was he mad?? The weight of his recent actions setting in, he leaned upon the control panel, staring intensely into the translucent reflection gaping back at him from the surface of the glass. "Okay, so one thing is now unmistakeably clear," he said aloud to himself, "I can no longer deny what I feel. I've never experienced anything like this." His thoughts turned to memories of Bulma that were flooding his mind. The sight of her sleeping face, smushed unto that uncomfortable position at his bedside desk, just waiting for him to wake. Her smile, when she told him he was "cute" and offered him a home in hers. Her wide eyes, deep and shining, after he kissed her. He felt a smile forming on his lips as he let the warmth begin to carry him away. He then shook himself out of his trance. "Still, I shouldn't have done that," he huffed through clenched teeth, "A Saiyan should never show weakness!" He gently thudded a fist on the glass. "What is wrong with me? My father wouldn't have let himself become so soft, especially for... a woman!" He winced slightly. "He'd be so disappointed in me!"

After a moment, he slowly uncurled his fists and sighed heavily. "But perhaps that was his downfall, in a way. All he ever taught us was domination and pride, and look where it got us!" Flashbacks of Frieza's chaotic reign, along with Vegeta's decimated planet, intruded his thoughts. He couldn't let that happen again. Not to this new home. Confusion overwhelmed him as he shook his head in despair. "I've got to clear my mind. I must train- and hard. I'm through with destroying planets. It's my turn to save one. It's all I have left. So I need to get stronger. This world needs more than that clown and his circus of miscreants."

He began typing on the keypad in front of him, searching for a nearby, uninhabited planet. "I have a little less than three years to prepare. So I need total focus." His heart thumped as Bulma's image flickered through his mind. "No distractions." He pushed her away and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. After some brief searching, he finally located a small, un-named planet, orbiting a neighboring star. "This one will do just fine." Once he typed in the coordinates and set the ship on it's course, he sank down into a nearby chair. "Thirty days," he mumbled to himself, "Thirty days on this damned ship." He stared, unblinking, through the window in front of him, his mind wandering far from his being. Deep in thought, his eyes began to stray from his focal point on the window and land on various things in the ship. Buttons, lights, equipment, chairs, all passed his view slowly as he absentmindedly shifted his vision around his temporary enclosure. Unententionally, his attention fell on a picture hanging on the wall. A picture of Dr. Briefs... and his daughter... taken shortly after they finished their newest creation. The one Vegeta had just stolen from their yard. He scoffed as he quickly averted his eyes toward the floor below. His heart dropped slightly when his gaze landed on none other than Bulma's toolbox, still sitting where it was left, right after she was nearly electrocuted to death. Right before Vegeta gathered her limp body in his arms to rush her to her home for help, in a panic he didn't know he was capable of. Displeased at how much that simple metal box made his heart flutter, he shoved himself up out of the chair with a deep sigh and moved to the gravity control panel, switching it on and raising the levels as high as he could withstand. "Thirty days of training to be had. There's not a moment to waste."

The next months journey was filled with intense training and strategizing. If he wasn't eating or sleeping, Vegeta was pushing his limits further and further. Every couple of days, through all of the deafening noises of his rigorous exercise, he would hear the faint sound of the video monitor ringing. Pausing his training for a moment, he would reluctantly approach the control board to see Bulma's alluring face lighting up the screen, as she attempted to reach him through her cellphone. Each time that it would happen, his hand would hover, trembling, over the "answer" button. But he could never bring himself to press it. The frantic ringing would sing for a moment or two, then cease all together, leaving him staring at nothing but his cold reflection once more, his hand still in the air, index finger still poised to press the button that wasn't there anymore. With a labored sigh and a slightly painful heaviness in his chest, he would slowly lower his arm and return to his training, each time with less enthusiasm than before. This reocurred for three weeks, until one day, when the call screen went dark and quiet for good. The day that Vegeta noticed the absence of Bulma's desperate calls to him was probably the most melancholy one of his entire trip.

Dust billowed out from underneath Vegeta's boots as he stepped from the ship, onto the surface of his new, personal training grounds. He inhaled deeply the refreshing air of a world where he was the sole inhabitant. Now he could _really_ get some intense training done. "Perhaps now I can finally reach the same level Kakarot has..." He grimaced. "If anyone should hold the title of Super Saiyan it is I, Prince Vegeta!!!" He bellowed, finally releasing all of the rage and tension he had carried with him for the past month into the night sky. Breathing heavily from his sudden outburst, he slowly relaxed his muscles and lifted his head to gaze into the stars. His brows furrowed as his countenance hardened into pure determination. "I _will_ become a Super Saiyan, and I _will_ defeat those wretched androids if its the last thing that I do!!!" He lowered his head and smirked knowingly. "And it definitely won't be." Filled with motivation, he powered up all of his energy to maximum levels, ready to go harder than ever before.

For a fleeting moment, his mind replayed the day a month earlier, in the hospital, when he tore himself from Bulma's arms and fled away from her down the hall, without so much as a goodbye. Instantaneously, he powered down and hung his head in shame, feeling his heart drop once more. "That cowardice will _not_ get the best of me," he growled low to himself. He was silent for a minute. Then, in a rush of courage, he decided something. "Some day, I _will_ have the strength to overcome that, too." A small and genuine smile formed on his lips. He now had the drive he needed. It was time to get ready. Time to prepare himself for a fight not only for his new home, but also for his new desires and his love for the one he shared it with. Time to train.

Over the course of the next three months, Vegeta trained harder than he ever had. He broke barriers, discovered new strength, and beat his body black and blue, along with his little planet. Every night, after he ended his physical training for the day, he enjoyed lying out under the stars, dirty and exhausted, actively training his mind. He loved the stars. They reminded him of Bulma's beautiful, shining eyes. And one night, watching those stars, he knew. He knew it was time to return. He hadn't reached Super Saiyan yet, but his supplies were diminishing, and he couldn't wait any longer. He knew the next obstacles to overcome were his powerful emotions. He had to tell her. He wanted to. He believed that if he told Bulma how he felt, no matter how uncomfortable the situation might be, he would finally have both the physical strength and mental control to finish his training and transform into the coveted form he had been chasing for so long. Now that he had obtained the ability to overcome his insecurities and be honset with himself, it was high time to be honest with the woman he loved. Besides, he knew better than anyone that growth only comes from discomfort and pain. His heart feeling more full than it ever had since he began his new life, Vegeta hurriedly packed all of his equipment away and climbed into his ship, ready to face his fears and become stronger. It would be a long and anxious month home for him. But he was ready.


End file.
